


give you all the noise in this body

by returnsandreturns



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, Gentle Bro Dom Foggy, Law School, M/M, Post-Elektra, Season 2 Flashback Spoilers, sub!Matt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6365842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/returnsandreturns/pseuds/returnsandreturns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Would you hurt me?” Matt asks. “If I asked you to?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> post-elektra sexual healing fic in (probably) three parts, this being the first
> 
> (also, I was trying to write PROSE after writing a lot of dialogue heavy stuff for the last several months, so I feel WEIRD about it but here we are)

It’s raining the first time Matt does it—crosses the assumed distance between his bed and Foggy’s bed in their shit one-bedroom place they moved into after the semester ended, the knife thin bridge that neither of them has crossed even though Foggy’s heart goes funny and gymnastic when Matt smiles and the same thing that got Matt abandoned with blood on his hands sometimes flares up hot under his skin when Foggy says his name just right.

Foggy’s sigh is soft, so soft that Matt shouldn’t even be able to hear it, before he sits up with a creak of his mattress and says, loud in the face of a day’s worth of silence, “Matt, you have to get back up eventually,” a month since Elektra walked away and didn’t come back.

“I’m up,” Matt says. “I’ve been up.”

“ _Matt_.”

A little firm, concerned, maybe. Lights something up in Matt that he should probably extinguish, a low fire in the hole that she left in his stomach. Matt licks his lips, suddenly aware of how dry they are.

“What exactly am I not doing that you think I should be, Foggy?” he asks, not even angling his head towards him, not trying to keep his voice even or nice. Foggy’s silent for a few seconds before he draws in a sharp breath, voice fake-bright when he talks again.

“Living, Murdock,” he says. “Going out, consuming cheap booze, making poor decisions—not— _felony_ decisions, because you should probably leave that one in the past, but—you know, _living_.”

“You already got me through my classes,” Matt says. “You don’t—you don’t have to worry about me anymore.”

“‘fraid that’s not gonna stop me, buddy,” Foggy says, a little softer, earnest. “What can I do besides physically dragging you out of bed?”

Matt thinks about Foggy’s hands on him, a few days after he got back to the dorm, when Matt could still feel the blood no matter how many times he washed his hands. Foggy held onto him even when Matt tussled and fought, until he calmed down in his arms and curled hesitantly close. Matt almost expected him to shush him, treat him like a scared animal, but Foggy just. _Stayed_. Held onto Matt until Matt could smell nothing but him with his face pressed against Foggy’s clavicle, until Matt _sobbed_ , didn’t tell him anything besides the fact that she was _gone_ but still broke open and fell apart.

They didn’t talk about it after, but Foggy helped him catch up with his work and filled up dead air with his voice and stayed.

The rain’s loud against the window when Matt stands up, now. He listens to the sound of Foggy’s pulse speeding up underneath it as Matt takes the steps between them and drops a knee onto Foggy’s bed, asking, “Can—can I?”

Foggy hesitates. Matt can feel it—he can _taste_ it, Foggy’s breath like stale coffee on the quick inhale-exhale. And then he’s reaching up to touch fingers to Matt’s arm and murmuring, “Yeah. Yes, Matt,” even though he has no idea what he’s agreeing to and Matt only somewhat what he’s asking for.

Matt crawls into bed next to him, shoves carefully into Foggy’s space and lets out a breath that feels like it’s been caught in his chest for a week straight when Foggy lets him, when Foggy makes room by moving in close to the wall and pulling Matt towards him. They end up laying down facing each other, knees curled up and knocking together, too much of them for the twin bed that Foggy’s parents helped them drag up four flights of stairs.

“You’re going to have to bring me up to speed here, buddy,” Foggy says, softly, goes for joking and flies right past it to something that makes Matt want to press in even closer. He reaches out to sprawl his fingers over Foggy’s heart, feel the way it speeds up even more.

He wishes that it didn’t feel like breaking and entering.

“We could have fun, don’t you think?” Matt asks, lifts his chin and smiles before he can think about anything past breaking glass.

“Probably,” Foggy says, and the sound of his voice makes Matt’s fingers curl in the fabric of his t-shirt. Foggy runs a big careful hand over his arm. “You sure?”

Matt nods, shifts until he can rest his forehead against Foggy’s but lets him push it further, brushing their noses together before he catches Matt’s mouth in a soft kiss.

When they part with a faint slick noise, Foggy asks, “Fun?” warmly, a little speculative.

“Yeah,” Matt breathes, tapping fingers on Foggy’s sternum. “This count as living?”

Foggy presses his smile to the corner of Matt’s mouth, murmurs, “I’ll allow it,” before he gets his fingers in Matt’s hair to kiss him with intent.  

*

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” Matt says, a week or so later, after Foggy undresses him in the middle of their living room, leaves Matt’s sweat-damp clothes on the floor and kisses him and kisses him in the warm breeze from their open windows.

They spent the morning sprawled out on the living room floor filling out job applications because Matt’s summer job plans fell through and they might actually starve, until eventually Foggy groaned, “I can’t, I’ve reached my limits, drop those resumes and get the hell over here.”

Now, Matt’s wearing nothing and Foggy’s still dressed—his hair is pulled back and he’s running fingers up and down Matt’s side as he asks, “Is that what you want?”

Matt hesitates, shifts on his feet and tastes the air, salt and warm skin because their second-hand window AC unit sputtered out three days after the temperature broke 95. He wants to tell Foggy that he’ll take whatever he’ll give him. He wants to tell Foggy that he wants him to leave bruises because he thinks it might help him forget the ones that have already healed. He wants to tell Foggy about being on his knees fully clothed in the basement stacks of the library, arms tied behind his back and Elektra’s voice in his ear distracting him from keeping track of anyone close by— _say please, Matthew_.

He _wants_ and he says, “I like it a little rough,” even though it tastes wrong on his tongue, not a lie but definitely not enough. Foggy’s fingers skim over his waist before they wrap around it, blunt nails digging in. Matt’s skin feels too tight.

“A little?” Foggy asks, and it feels like—permission, maybe, a space for Matt to jump if he’s not too afraid of falling.

Matt takes a deep breath. Foggy’s hand rises and falls with it.

“Would you hurt me?” Matt asks. “If I asked you to?”

The glass breaks, and the blood’s not on his hands anymore. He sways a little as he listens to Foggy’s heart speed up, fingers slick with sweat as they slide up Matt’s ribs and towards his back, until Foggy’s bolstering him with a palm flat across his spine.

“Ask me to,” Foggy says.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt ends up at a call center that sends him home with a headache every day, while Foggy works the opening shift at his Uncle’s grocery store and spends his afternoons dutifully researching at the library, comes home with notes scrawled on index cards that Matt can make out if he touches them carefully. There are standards and practices and little knot diagrams and he’s got ink on his fingertips the first time Foggy hits him—kisses Matt’s temple and runs fingers through his hair and asks him whether he wants to be on his hands and knees or over Foggy’s lap.
> 
> “Lap,” Matt says, after a moment, wrinkles his nose when Foggy makes a pleased noise and presses a wet kiss to his cheek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, it's been awhile! I'm trying to write myself back into this story so hopefully the rest will be more expedient. <3

Matt ends up at a call center that sends him home with a headache every day, while Foggy works the opening shift at his Uncle’s grocery store and spends his afternoons dutifully researching at the library, comes home with notes scrawled on index cards that he'll read to Matt, if Matt asks. There are guidelines and tips and little knot diagrams and Foggy's got ink on his fingertips the first time he hits Matt—kisses Matt’s temple and runs fingers through his hair and asks him whether he wants to be on his hands and knees or over Foggy’s lap.

“Lap,” Matt says, after a moment, wrinkles his nose when Foggy makes a pleased noise and presses a wet kiss to his cheek.

Foggy laughs, says, “Yeah, deal with it,” and kisses him on the other cheek, breathes in against Matt’s hair before he guides Matt so he’s sprawled out over his knees while they’re both still fully dressed on their shitty sofa.

“This might be better if at least one of us wasn’t wearing pants,” Matt says.

“You think?” Foggy asks, before he runs a hand over Matt’s ass through his jeans.

“Sort of standard practice,” Matt says, before his voice cuts off into a gasp when Foggy’s fingers dig in, his other hand sinking into Matt’s hair again. He scratches at Matt’s scalp when Matt lifts his hips up more.

“Let’s just play it by ear,” he suggests, lightly, then spanks Matt once. It’s enough to make Matt shift forward, huff out a breath, but it’s not— _enough_. Matt rolls his eyes even though Foggy can’t see it.

“I didn’t even feel that, Nelson,” he says, expecting Foggy to laugh but he doesn’t, just makes a contemplative noise before he tugs a little at Matt’s hair.

“Thanks for the feedback,” he says, then hits Matt so hard that he forgets to breathe with it, chokes out a yell.

“Shit, okay,” Matt says, breathlessly, twists enough that he thinks Foggy can see his grin.

“Felt that?” Foggy asks. His voice is a little sweet, fingers sliding under the waistband of Matt’s jeans, the other hand still petting him.

“Sort of,” Matt says, and Foggy laughs that time, big and outright.

“Guess I’ll have to try again,” he says.

He spanks Matt until Matt _cries_ , which is surprising, pausing halfway through to finally shove Matt’s pants down to his knees and start hitting harder. When he asks Matt if he’s had enough, when Matt’s a red and shaky mess underneath him, Matt just says, “I can take more.”

“But have you had enough?” Foggy repeats, tightening his fingers in Matt’s hair and pulling so he has to lift his head, so Foggy can see him. He swallows back a sob.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, gasping when Foggy smooths a hand over his ass before he guides Matt up so he’s straddling Foggy’s lap and pulling him down into a kiss. It’s nice, a soft sweet contrast to the pain, Foggy kissing tears off his cheeks before he bites down gently on Matt’s bottom lip.

“How was that?” Foggy asks, turning to smirk against Matt’s cheek. Matt rests his forehead against Foggy’s for a moment.

“Good,” he says. “It was—good.”

He thinks about Elektra because his brain is still trained on her in a way he can't break out of, the feel of her nails breaking his skin, pretty voice wrapped around words that made Matt ache and beg for her to do whatever she wanted. He was pretty sure that, with the right words, the right touch, she could make him do anything.

Sometimes he liked that.

“You sure?” Foggy asks, leaning back. “Your face is doing a thing.”

He reaches up to touch fingers to Matt’s cheek, and Matt hesitates before he moves in to kiss Foggy again, dropping his weight down against him so Foggy slips his arms around him to hold on.

“It was great,” Matt murmurs, when he pulls away, close to Foggy’s ear. “ _You’re_ great.”

He rocks his hips down, and Foggy’s breath catches.

“What do you want, Matty?” Foggy asks, his fingers wrapping around Matt’s hips to keep him still. Matt pushes forward again just to feel Foggy hold him in place. He’s stronger than Matt thought he might be. He could probably actually hold Matt down, if he wanted, pin Matt and keep him where he wants him.

Matt lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. 

“You,” he says, softly.

Foggy’s heart speeds up.

“Get on your knees,” Foggy says. “I bought rope yesterday.”

*

“Are we ever going to talk about—her?” Foggy asks, after Matt rides him on their couch with his hands tied in careful knots behind him, after Matt licks his own come off Foggy’s fingers. He drops to sit down on the coffee table in front of Matt, passing him a water bottle.     

Matt says, “Not yet.”

“Alright, buddy,” Foggy says, gamely, running his cold toes up Matt’s ankle and making him shiver. “Can you just tell me one thing?”

Matt takes a long drink and doesn’t reply.

 “I don’t know if what went down between you two had anything to do with—what we’ve been doing—” Foggy says, and Matt ducks his head. “Hey—”

Foggy takes the bottle from his hand and sits it on the table, moves to stand in front of Matt and cup his cheek so Matt raises his head again.

“I don’t care what you two did,” Foggy says. “Honest, Matty, I just want to make sure I don’t do anything to hurt you.”

Matt’s pretty sure that Foggy would care about some of the things that they did. Not the houses, not the cars, but—Matt can’t tell him the rest. He can’t ever tell him, not if he wants Foggy to stay.

He wants Foggy to stay.

“You won’t,” Matt says, smiling faintly. “I know you won’t.”

Foggy sighs.

“I just want to make you happy, okay?” he says, fingers slipping down to curl gently around Matt’s neck, just resting there. Matt bites his lip against the memory of Elektra moving slowly on top of him, telling him she loves him with her thumbs pressing into his throat. Matt couldn’t get enough air to say it back, but he gasped it against her cunt after she moved to rub herself off against his mouth.

Foggy smooths his other hand over Matt’s hair.

“I’m happy,” Matt says, even though he’s not sure he’s telling the truth.

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing a million fics at once because I have no discipline, come watch me have emotions about it [on tumblr](http://returnsandreturns.tumblr.com).


End file.
